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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26988445">seven crows a secret (never to be told)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/CynicallySmitten/pseuds/CynicallySmitten'>CynicallySmitten</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman, The Vampire Diaries (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Daemons, Cringfest circa 2009, Daemons, Don't Judge Me, F/M, File This Under:, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I Don't Even Know, Oneshot, Rape/Non-con Elements, Things I find in my old computer files, but just the S1 Damon/Caroline stuff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 23:09:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,031</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26988445</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/CynicallySmitten/pseuds/CynicallySmitten</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It's always this way when they come back – like a sickness they are infected with over and over. Corvina's beak nips his fingers softly.</p><p>“Damon,” she whispers, her voice desperately soft, “We will see them again.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Caroline Forbes/Damon Salvatore, Elena Gilbert/Damon Salvatore, Elena Gilbert/Damon Salvatore/Stefan Salvatore, Elena Gilbert/Stefan Salvatore, Katherine Pierce/Damon Salvatore</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>seven crows a secret (never to be told)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is something I stumbled on when transferring files and of course my immediate cringe is overtaken by shame that I wrote all this ten years ago and never fucking finished it. But I also couldn't bring myself to just trash it. So. Enjoy, I guess?</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Damon does not strut through Mystic Falls like some nefarious villain as he wreaks havoc on Stefan's life. He figures, after so many years, that's the image Stefan keeps in his head: the taunts and the arrogance, the 'bad' brother. In all honesty, it takes very little to knock down Stefan's house of cards. And he's just getting started. </p><p>(Can't keep up with your big brother? You're getting sloppy, Stefan.)</p><p>He can see, in vivid detail, the terror and agony he wants this town to know. They deserve to know. All these unchanged people, faces reflecting their shallow, monotonous existence. It's their inheritance. Like a merry-go-round of hypocritical, useless human beings. </p><p>(You're done playing pretend. You're not human, Stef, and one day you'll have to take off that mask and see for yourself who you really are.)</p><p>No, he doesn't want to leave it at Stefan and a few hopeless teenagers. That's entertainment and revenge and minimal in the plans he has. He'll even leave Stefan alive to watch it all happen, to go through all the motions he should have left behind long ago. </p><p>(I told you so, brother.)</p><p>He wants to tear everything down. </p><p>He wants to watch it all burn. </p><p>Corvina caws her displeasure from the rafters of Stefan's room, shifting her black wings. He can feel his daemon bristling with his anger, but she tilts her head at him sharply. <i>“You want to burn them to the ground and stand on their ashes.” </i></p><p>It's more a question than a statement and Damon huffs from the bed, one side of his mouth curving upwards. "Less King James, more The Punisher."</p><p>Unimpressed, the crow swoops down to the cluttered desk below. </p><p>Damon doesn't bother to watch her, to acknowledge what he knows she'll find on Stefan's desk; the portrait is a ghost of the woman he once failed. It's useless to drown in that now. He is close enough to his goal, nostalgia isn't apart of that. </p><p>He knows what he has to do.</p><p>
  <i>“Katherine did not die in the fire.”</i>
</p><p>It comes out quietly, but he feels an edge to her words. He hesitates, like he always does when Katherine is mentioned, before shrugging off the words.  </p><p>"Tell me something I don't know." </p><p><i>“She is not gone.” </i>Her voice is tinged with desperation.</p><p>"Is there a point somewhere?" Damon asks, annoyed. </p><p><i>“She is not a ghost.”</i> Corvina's beak clicks angrily, a series of clacks and caws that permeate the air with bitterness. <i>“They are not dead or gone, simply waiting. Your revenge is not what is at stake here and you know it.”</i> She flies over to him and onto the edge of the bed. <i>“Do not hold onto a fire that will burn you.”</i></p><p>He sits up against the headboard, narrowing his eyes. "Corvina-" </p><p><i>“Damon,”</i> she warns, plucking at the fabric of his jeans. She says nothing more, though, only comes closer, silent as he lifts a hand to stroke her black feathers. </p><p>They sit like this for minutes, anger softened to understanding, tinged with sadness. This town, Damon thinks. It's always this way when they come back – like a sickness they are infected with over and over. Corvina's beak nips his fingers softly.</p><p><i>“Damon,”</i> she whispers, her voice desperately soft, <i>“We will see them again.”</i></p><p>Damon's mouth is suddenly dry; he swallows, lowers his hand. "I need a drink."</p><p>–</p><p> </p><p>–</p><p>She is the spitting image of Katherine. It fills him with the kind of ache and desire that makes him feel raw, makes him want to bite off his own tongue. He's filled with rage and bitterness and unadulterated want; he closes it off before it takes too much of him. </p><p>He finds her at the cemetery not for the first time, but Corvina takes it upon herself to watch more closely. She writes in a small green book – a diary – when Corvina flies down to a headstone. She caws lightly, like a greeting, and the girl looks up curiously, shrugging, “Hi, bird.”</p><p>Corvina doesn't speak to her - not that most daemons would – but simply calls out again. Damon knows she can't tell that Corvina is anything but a wild bird with an enthralling glint to her eye.</p><p>“That's not creepy or anything.” </p><p>It seems to grab the attention of the daemon at her side, though, and immediately the Ocelot stands up and narrows it's eyes. It's beautiful, Corvina admires, eyes raking over his sand-colored coat, patterned with dark stripes and rings of dark fur, and golden brown eyes watching her closely. </p><p>Fear, Damon identifies and feels a stir of pleasure igniting his senses. </p><p><i>“Elena,”</i> the daemon says urgently, causing her to notice the fog that has taken over the graveyard. He stands alertly, scoping the area. <i>“Elena, something's not right.”</i></p><p>Elena rises too, looking concernedly to her daemon before raising her hands. “Shoo, shoo!” </p><p>Corvina flies off before landing once more.</p><p>“That's what I thought,” she boasts to the empty headstone and the feline daemon snorts.</p><p>When Corvina lets out a caw from behind her, it sounds more like laughter. Elena all but jumps out of her skin and grabs her bag before fleeing, her daemon hesitating just slightly before quickly following after.</p><p>Corvina watches Damon hide next to her, intrigued even as Elena trips down a sloping path. </p><p><i>“She's interesting,”</i> she says, tilting her head.</p><p>He, of course, agrees.</p><p>–</p><p>He can't resist when she comes looking for Stefan. It's too easy, too much temptation, and Damon smiles as Elena calls out for his brother. Her daemon looks as inquisitive as she does, walks ahead a small measure before finding the door open. </p><p>“Cathal,” Elena warns.</p><p><i>“Elena,”</i> he says, and grins, stepping through the doorway.</p><p>Elena steps forward, too, curious as she looks over every inch of the boarding house. “Stefan?” </p><p>Corvina is steadily quiet, watching from outside. She holds herself in wait until she can make her appearance, watching the pair with amusement. She hears the creak of a door and knows, when Elena turns towards the door, that her timing is perfect.</p><p>She flies towards Elena, dark wings spread wide, and lets out an echoing caw, disappearing into the house and sending Elena straight into Damon. The ocelot at her side jumps back, defensive as he watches Elena fumble for words.</p><p>“I-I'm sorry for barging in,” Elena apologizes. “The door was-” She turns her head to find the door shut, as though the last few minutes had never happened. “-open.”</p><p><i>“Where's his daemon?”</i> Cathal asks in a whisper, looking at the door as though he already knows the answer. Damon glances over at him before smiling at Elena. </p><p>“You must be Elena.” Damon watches her, pretends not to notice her confusion. “I'm Damon, Stefan's brother.”</p><p>Elena blinks. “He didn't tell me he had a brother.”  </p><p>And so he paints a picture worth every scowl-born wrinkle on Stefan's face, teasing around questions he knows Stefan will never answer. Elena takes it in and her daemon looks less pleased by the minute. That is until Stefan appears, Alis on his shoulder.</p><p>The falcon is passive but watchful, scanning the room for Corvina before her gaze falls on Damon. Stefan's eyes barely leave Damon's long enough to acknowledge Elena with a goodbye and when her daemon finally leaves, Damon whistles.</p><p>“We both know the closest you'll ever get to humanity is when you rip it open and feed on it.”</p><p>–</p><p>Caroline's daemon is so easily trapped between Corvina's claws, it makes Damon's soft grip feel generous. The ferret squirms under her uselessly, his small body trying desperately to set itself free. The claws on the end of its feet swipe through her feathers to no real avail. </p><p>Corvina moves only as he moves, watching her prey quietly. </p><p>“You can't fight me, Caroline,” Damon whispers against her throat. But Caroline isn't fighting him – as Damon aptly puts, can't fight him – and instead trembles against him. It's her only movement. He nips her pulse point, her collar bone, as he works his way down her shirt.</p><p>“Please,” she breathes.</p><p>He shakes his head, smiling. “Nuh-uh.” </p><p>His fingers slide up the edge of her blouse, undoing buttons as his fingers skim over her soft stomach and up around her ribcage. Her breath  hitches and her deamon begins fighting much harder, baring teeth. Corvina lets out a rattle in warning before clacking her beak in a single, short note. </p><p>Damon's eyes fill and his fangs lengthen as he moves himself down between her legs.</p><p>“Bas,” Caroline cries out as her daemon tires, looks as ruined as he does frightened. The daemon meets her eyes apologetically, struggles once more, but fatigue leaves him like putty in Corvina's claws. </p><p>Damon sinks his teeth into her thigh. </p><p>–</p><p>Corvina is large for a crow. She is nearly the size of a raven when she spreads her wings and carries herself as though she is twice the size. However, she is still small in comparison to the size of his brother's Alis. </p><p>Upon sight, Alis is a superior predator, the falcon looking determined and heroic as she watches over his brother's shoulder. People had always admired Alis, always told Stefan how proud and impressive his daemon was from the time she had settled into her feathers. </p><p>But Corvina has never been afraid of Alis - never, when they would perch beside one another or have playful spars in the air; never, not even when she was a flash of talons and uncontrollable violence – and the same applies tonight. </p><p>She tears into the history teacher's daemon as though it is her last meal. The rat, heart pounding and letting out one single shriek, is gone within moments. Corvina drops the rodent as it sheds gold light before it disappears into dust entirely. The school teacher is left rotting on the asphalt of the parking lot, his throat torn and his blood coating Damon's lips.  </p><p>He hears things like blood and death and finally that come from Corvina. She enjoys the kills as much as he does, Damon knows, and the word humanity dies on Stefan's lips as quickly as it had formed.</p><p>“Anyone, anytime, any place.”</p><p>He leaves Stefan shrinking back in horror, like it is his own hands that do Damon's work, and he smiles when Corvina takes a swipe at Alis' blue-gray wings as she flies past. </p><p>–</p><p>Damon runs his fingers down Elena's cheek.</p><p>The bedroom is lit by a lamp at her bedside, letting shadows play across their faces. Elena must have fallen asleep writing because her diary lays open next to her unconscious form, like it's another piece of her soul left bare. Damon's eyes never leave her face.</p><p>Corvina doesn't waste her breath to tell him that her resemblance is just a painful reminder of another girl with her face. They've grown an affection for her, admittedly, but it doesn't need saying that she is not Katherine. Instead she sits on the sil, absently watching the wildcat on the bed, purring occasionally in its sleep.</p><p>He can feel it, that headiness that Katherine left in him, like the memory of a drug with a high long gone. That beautiful face is hers, those dark eyes, pouty lips, and soft olive skin. He can see her breathe. Her chest rises and falls in slow, deep intervals. For a moment, he can touch her. Breathe her in.</p><p>Damon reaches a hand out to brush against her cheek. </p><p>“You're not going to hurt her,” he hears Stefan's certainty.</p><p>A part of this is true, because a part of Stefan's assumptions always are, even if he doesn't have enough sense to comprehend which parts. He won't hurt Elena, not so long as she wears Katherine's face – not so long as she makes herself interesting.</p><p>“Elena is not Katherine,” and Damon wants to laugh at Stefan's naivety.</p><p>So much difference, so much of the same. Katherine's face leaves him breathless, yearning; Elena's face leaves him anticipating, demanding. Her captivating face lights with a righteous fire of Elena's convictions rather than the burn of Katherine's deviousness. So different, so the same. </p><p>Corvina turns away from the ocelot, disappears into the dark; Damon is gone before Elena's eyes flutter open.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Damon -- Corvina, Latin for "Raven" or "like a Raven": an American crow. Crows are associated with omens of death, but also as messengers of God and bringers of good luck. Crows are unlikely problem solvers, extremely intelligent -- so intelligent, in fact, that they've been known to make tools from twigs and other objects to forage for edible treats such as worms, grain, seeds, nuts and berries. Because of their cunning, they are often seen as tricksters.  </p><p>Stefan –  Alis, Welsh for “noble sort"; a Falcon.  Falcons are known to symbolize power, strength, light, autonomy, and good judgment. Falcons, in general, have amazing vision and are incredibly fast and talented fliers, reaching speeds of 200 miles per hour. In history, the falcon is known as the hunting companion to the aristocracy. </p><p>Elena – Cathal, derived from the Gaelic elements cath "battle" and val "rule"; an Ocelot cat. Cats are associated with cleverness, independence, protection, love, and the ability to fight when backed into a corner. In Ancient Rome, the cat was also considered a guardian of homes and a symbol of domestic goodness.  </p><p>Caroline – Basim, Arabic for “smiling”; a ferret. Ferrets are cheerful, playful animals with the inquisitiveness of the raccoon and the amiableness of a kitten. As well as being light-hearted and playful, they are often associated with stealth, cleverness, and the ability to see hidden reasons behind things. In Medieval England, wealthy ladies kept ferrets as pets. Ferrets were so valuable to the landed gentry that a law was passed in 1390 that restricted the ownership of ferrets to only the very wealthy. Queen Elizabeth I's portrait shows off her pet ferret, complete with jeweled collar.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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